


A Troubled Masseur

by Paceus



Series: Massaging [2]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fingerfucking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paceus/pseuds/Paceus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom finds out that giving your little brother a prostate massage may result in morally questionable situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Smut Saturday. Thanks to Steinsgrrl and anehan for the beta!

Things were not going too well for Tom. First of all, he freaked out the next day after he'd massaged Bill's prostate. He'd thought he was doing it to help Bill relax and be able to perform, and all of a sudden he'd found himself in a tangled mix of Bill coming and he, himself, wanting to come, and he'd even contemplated having anal sex with his twin brother. And that was just the beginning. He'd managed to convince himself that it had been temporary insanity, because surely something as unpleasant and even repulsive as prostate massaging didn't have anything to do with anal sex. He'd been so ignorant and innocent. Tom thought about that time with nostalgia after a session with Google. And things were going to get even worse.

He had taken advantage of a rare quiet moment in the lounge area by googling _prostate massage_ to make sure that what had happened between him and Bill was all right. The search results made him feel positively ill. _The male hot spot! The male G Spot! Sensual! Pleasurable!_

And then...

"Hey, Tom!"

Bill peeked in and Tom shut the laptop so fast he almost clipped his fingers. He was sure he looked guilty enough to have killed dozens of innocents, but Bill didn't seem to notice. He leaned closer to Tom, talking in a low voice.

"The massage has worked wonders! We were top-notch last night! I feel great!" Was that an adoring look Bill was giving him? "Thanks to you."

"Uh, er," Tom said, feeling like he was drowning. He couldn't get enough air. He couldn't think of anything to say to fix this. It was beyond fixing.

Bill flashed him one of his widest, happiest smiles. "This is going to be our best tour! And I'm going to be so stunning. Can we do it again soon?"

The laptop burned on Tom's thighs. He could still see the advert gushing about a hot nurse porn video with prostate action. His stomach felt like it had dropped below floor-level. But Bill looked so happy.

"Sure," Tom croaked.

Bill clapped. "Thanks! You're the best!" He whirled around and left Tom to clutch his laptop in dread. He'd just promised to stroke Bill inside his _ass_ until Bill came, and Bill didn't think it was problematic at all. Bill had asked for it!

What had he done to his little brother?

***

The horrifying consequences of Tom helping Bill bled into the most everyday situations, too, like eating a hotel breakfast with Georg and Gustav. Bill was leafing though a trashy magazine, blinking sleepily, and Tom was snarfing down a waffle next to him, thankfully not thinking about Bill in conjunction with gay sex for once.

"Are you even reading it?" Tom asked, after Bill had turned a few pages so mechanically and quickly that he couldn't have paid much attention to them.

"Huh?" Bill said. He glanced up, looking so clueless that Tom gave up; Bill hadn't probably even heard him.

"Hey, I think I've read that one," Tom said, craning his neck to see the page with pictures of a striped cat. "This is really funny. It's a cat who adopts a puppy, see?"

"Where?" Bill looked back down at the page. He looked adorably lost. Tom couldn't help but smile.

"Here." Tom pointed at the picture of a cat nursing. He supposed he ought to help Bill, since _his_ mental capacity was working like he was actually awake. "See? The cat has four kittens, but this one is a puppy." Tom circled the puppy and tapped it for good measure. He wasn't sure Bill got it even then; his eyes were looking kind of glazed.

"A..." Bill repeated, and Tom grinned, feeling affectionate. Bill was rarely so slow on the uptake.

"A puppy," he said. "You know, like a dog? She's going to grow up and think the cat is her mother!"

And then Tom realised that Bill wasn't thinking about the puppy, and he wasn't thinking about a grown dog that treated a much smaller cat like her mother. Bill was concentrating on Tom's finger that was, now that Tom thought about it, caressing the glossy magazine page slowly and lovingly. This dawned on Tom right when he was looking at Bill and Bill licked his lips, and then there was a consecutive train wreck of Tom's breath catching at the sight of the soft tip of Bill's tongue, and Bill shifting his hips and letting his legs fall open a little, and then Tom was suddenly rock hard and faltering.

It was like a nightmare: the most wrong, unthinkable things in the middle of kittens and puppies! He couldn't spend time with his brother normally anymore. They couldn't be close with Tom's fingers visible and Tom seeing Bill's tongue without this _weirdness_. Without Tom doing his damndest so as not to think about where he wanted Bill's tongue.

Bill looked up at him and, for a moment, Tom looked back helplessly, not sure what to do. He couldn't suggest a straightforward arrangement of mutual orgasms to his brother. Basically, the only solution to sitting next to his twin, hard, was to repress like hell.

Bill's eyes were dark on him. He looked like he'd be slow but intense, and so freaking hot in bed, Tom's traitorous mind noted. "Tom," Bill said, voice raspy.

Tom moved quickly backwards, sliding on his chair to get as far away from Bill as possible without attracting unwanted attention to them. He was seriously afraid that if he didn't get some space between them, he'd end up humping against Bill sooner rather than later, and despite being in public.

"Let's just," Tom said, nervously, and looked anywhere but at Bill. "Let's just eat breakfast so we can go on with our schedule."

***

The next time they did, it was, again, right before a concert. Bill said it had helped him so much last time. "I felt like I was glowing the whole night," he'd said, and Tom had tried not to think about it much. At all, to be precise.

And now they were by Bill's bunk again. Bill was taking off his trousers. "Thanks for doing this. I really need it and I think it's going to help hugely," Bill said.

Tom saw he was half-hard already and quickly looked the other way. He felt like he was going to pass out. This was incest and gay and sex and he couldn't do it, but he couldn't tell Bill that because he couldn't tell Bill _why_ , and it felt like his world was coming to an end. It just didn't sit right with him; Tom Kaulitz wasn't the kind of person to do this. Tom Kaulitz didn't make his little brother come, didn't tell him that it was platonic, almost medical, in fact, so that said little brother thought innocently that this was making him a better artist.

"Are you all right?" Bill asked. "You look a little pale."

"Fine," Tom said. He felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, that was all. "Let's do this."

Bill settled on the bed and Tom rubbed his hands on his thighs to make himself calm down. It was nothing, really. Maybe it _looked_ like gay incestuous sex but it wasn't, was it? So it was all right. There wasn't anything sexual about it; it wasn't nice at all, it was even a bit repulsive, so he could do it. He could be disinterested and professional and he could do it.

Tom sat down and Bill scooted closer to him, on his back with his legs wide apart. Icky, Tom reminded himself. Then he looked at Bill's cock again — it was kind of difficult not to look at it, the position he was in — and the guilt threatened to overwhelm him again. Bill was clearly looking forward to having Tom's fingers in his ass. Bill wasn't disinterested at all. It was all Tom's fault.

There was a pause. Then Bill turned. "Oh, right. Here it is..."

He gave Tom a bottle of lotion. He was doomed. They were both doomed. "Thanks," Tom said, as if manners mattered now that he was perverting his baby brother.

"Well, get on with it," Bill prompted when Tom hesitated.

"Do you," Tom started and swallowed. _Do you think this is all right?_ Bill looked so sure, though, so confident that it was a right thing to do, something useful and good for them. Tom couldn't share that belief. "Do you mind if it's cold?" he finished. The obscene whiteness of the lotion on his fingers mocked him.

"I'm good, don't worry about it," Bill said. "Besides, it's only cold for a while."

He smiled and Tom felt his expression change immediately, trying to answer the smile, even though he felt grave like someone had died.

"Okay then," Tom said. He straightened his shoulders, trying to fortify himself. Maybe it was just physical, a thought occurred to him. Bill might have an orgasm, but it was just tension release, a physical reaction, like sneezing. He could just as well cry or something like that. People cried when the tension broke after something stressful. Bill... came. Tom decided this was a logical and sound explanation and that he was going to hold on to it, no matter what. Then he placed his fingers against the crease of Bill's ass.

When Tom touched Bill's hole, Bill made a gasping noise that raised the hairs all over Tom's body. Tom stilled.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Bill said. He sounded breathless. "It's just really sensitive."

Tom's gut churned. "Right."

He circled Bill's hole, not daring to plunge in yet. Bill's skin was hot. Tom knew that inside it was even hotter. He tried to be surreptitious when taking a deep breath to calm his own insides. It didn't help. His heart was hammering.

Bill was looking up at the ceiling, a small relief.

"I don't think you need to prep that much now," Bill said.

So much for relief.

Tom took another deep breath, telling himself it was dirty and backwards and not about sex, even if they'd made hot nurse porn about it, and nudged the tip of his middle finger in Bill.

It was so tight. The pressure around his finger was unbelievable. Unbelievably enticing.

"Wait," Bill breathed, and that was all right with Tom, who could use a minute to regain his composure.

"Okay," Bill said, sighing. "But take it slow."

Tom would have said something, but he didn't trust his voice. He turned his finger slightly, like he'd done before, this way and that. Bill seemed comfortable with it, so he tested moving it back and forth a little.

"Mmh," Bill said. Tom tried to ignore him, but it was kind of difficult to ignore Bill at that particular moment. It was already easier to move his finger in Bill, as if Bill was welcoming it, anticipating Tom's touch.

Tom swallowed.

Repulsive, Tom reminded himself. Dirty and gross. His finger slipped deeper in the silky softness, the tight heat making his finger tingle. And other parts of him, too. Oh, fuck.

Tom tried to make it pleasant for Bill, despite everything, sliding his finger carefully in and out and around, petting gently. Judging from Bill's vocal feedback, he was doing all right.

"Oh," Bill said, "oh." His eyes were closed and his lips were parted. He was breathing erratically and kind of quickly. "Ahh," he said, his voice almost breaking. "That feels like the best thing _ever_. Seriously, Tom. That feels so good."

Tom was sweating and hot all over and his ears burned when Bill kept telling him how _fantastic_ his big brother was making him feel. In bed. Sexually. Tom tried to block all thoughts and get this over with as soon as possible. He felt miserable. And he was also hard.

"I'm not even touching it yet," he said.

"I know," Bill said, and now his voice sounded different, expecting and low.

Tom flicked his eyes at Bill reflexively and Bill was looking right back, his eyes dark.

"I'm going to, now," Tom said hastily, because the sooner this was over the better. He pushed his finger deeper and watched it disappear further inside Bill, Bill's body swallowing it. His imagination was giving him an instant, vivid little video of his cock pushing into the slippery tightness. Tom drew a shaky breath, feeling flushed, and looked at Bill's face again. Bill was still watching him. With a thoughtful air, eyes trained on Tom, he drew his legs up a little and then spread them further, as if to... accommodate... something between them.

Tom leaned forward, feeling like the axis of the world had shifted and he was going to fall over, right on top of Bill. He gripped the edge of the bunk and panted helplessly. Bill was biting his lip, still watching, until Tom finally got his useless finger to work properly and crooked it in a large swipe that was bound to hit Bill's prostate.

It worked, thankfully, and Bill let out a little cry, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side as if he couldn't help himself. It looked like it was _really_ good to him. Like Tom was really good to him. The thought made Tom feel a million times hotter all at once and a small sound slipped past his lips. Luckily Bill was too preoccupied to notice.

Tom kept touching Bill's prostate, pressing and rubbing, and Bill moaned and keened and gulped air as if he wasn't getting enough of it. Tom couldn't help but wonder how he'd ever thought this wasn't about sex when Bill was so clearly in the throes of pleasure. Then he reminded himself that he hadn't realised that someone sticking a finger up a guy's ass could feel so good, even though he had been vaguely aware of gay men having anal sex. He hadn't really realised that that would feel good, either, but now that-

Tom tried not to think about it. He focused on the mechanics. He slipped another finger in. Bill was so hot and tight, and it would probably feel amazing if-

Tom grasped for another thought, anything to keep his mind occupied, but it wasn't happening. Tom's eyes roamed hungrily all over Bill: Bill's mouth, slack; his eyes that were squeezed shut; his face that was shining with sweat. Bill was _squirming_ , his whole body, and Tom couldn't stop a curious part of him from imagining how Bill would feel against him if he were to cover Bill's half-naked body with his.

Tom's imagination was altogether wild and out of control. Bill looked as if he couldn't hold it all in, as if it felt so mind-blowing and amazing — that was why he was squirming, rubbing his palms against the bedspread, tipping his head back so that the column of his throat was exposed to Tom. And he was constantly moaning and emitting little pants of "Ah" and even whining. And Tom-

Tom couldn't stop thinking about what Bill would have looked and sounded like if it had been Tom's cock inside him, in the tight canal of his ass that was silken heat around his fingers. Would Bill have panted like that, would he have moaned like that, would he have asked for more? Would Bill have been clutching the material of Tom's shirt, would he have run his palms down Tom's back, Tom's skin? Would he have pushed his body up against Tom's and chanted Tom's name? Like he was chanting now.

Tom realised, as if through a fog, that he was cradling his cock through his trousers and stroking it a little. He tried to stop, because it was wrong — it was so wrong — but no matter how he tried, he couldn't. And so he was practically jacking himself when Bill wailed for the last time and came all over himself, thrashing and kicking the bed sheets.

Tom froze, his fingers still inside Bill and his other hand on his cock. Bill panted and looked at Tom, shaking his head. For a moment Tom thought he was commenting on Tom's sad state of being and he lowered his eyes in shame and dread, extracting his fingers as quickly and carefully as he could.

"That was so fucking amazing," Bill said, and Tom realised that was what the head shaking had been about.

"Ungh," Tom said, articulately. "I've got to go."

Despite his languorous state, Bill sat up awfully quickly. "Wait, let's talk," he said, but Tom was already up and moving. He shuffled sideways to the door because he was still hard and he didn't want Bill to see. He had never felt so low in his life.

That hadn't been about tension release. It _was_ sexual. And Tom realised that he _wanted_ to have incestuous gay sex with Bill, as wrong and horrible as that was. He had to get away from Bill quickly, so he ran.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill cornered Tom after the concert. Well, actually he just knocked on Tom's hotel room door after the concert and Tom let him in, but Tom felt cornered.

Bill looked different. His hair was sleek after a shower but he still had some make-up on, and there was a satisfied little smile playing on his lips. He looked soft and warm and inviting and a whole lot of other things that Tom tried to push out of his mind.

"Mmm," Bill said, and put his arms above his head and stretched. Tom's eyes were drawn to his stomach. Bill had a worn shirt on that was just long enough to hide skin, even in that position. For some reason, it made Tom feel worse. Maybe because the disappointment in not seeing Bill's skin made it impossible to ignore that he _wanted_ to see it.

"A great concert, wasn't it?" Bill asked.

"Uh-huh," Tom said, and took a step back. It was probably best to put some distance between them. He tried to look casual and not like he was backing away.

"I think it was amazing," Bill said, and walked toward Tom. Tom tried to turn and walk away – _casually_ – but Bill intercepted him. "And it's mostly your doing."

Tom was now between Bill and the wall; it looked like Bill had cornered him after all. Somehow he'd seen this coming, and yet he hadn't been able to stop it. He wasn't able to stop his body's most interesting reactions to Bill being so close, either.

Tom wasn't completely without weapons, though. "You're not serious," he said, attempting a light tone. "It's not mostly my doing when you are so good on stage."

Flattery usually distracted Bill from anything, but this time it seemed to backfire on Tom. Bill looked at him beneath his lashes and put his hand up to toy with the collar of Tom's shirt. "Really? You thought I was good?"

Tom swallowed.

"The fans," he said, and had to clear his throat. "The _fans_ think you're amazing. You know exactly what appeals to them, you know? And your..." he searched for words, frantic. "Your dancing?" he tried.

Bill pursed his lips. Not that Tom was looking at his lips. "I am good," Bill concluded, "but I need to be relaxed before I can give my all. And that's where you came in."

Bill smiled his little smile again. _Sexy_ , Tom's mind informed him; all of Bill practically screamed that. _You sick, miserable fuck, that's your brother_ , Tom thought.

"I," he started, but Bill didn't let him speak.

"I want you to know how grateful I am," Bill said, and suddenly he looked completely serious. "This means so much to me. You've done me a huge favour and I'd like to repay it. So..." Bill looked down and then back at Tom, who was staring at him helplessly. "Is there anything you want?"

Bill's fingers, still caressing Tom's collar, slipped and touched skin. It was a simple, flirty but basically innocent thing exactly like the dozens of others Bill did every day, but this time it was making Tom's blood boil with temptation and guilt.

Neither of which were helped with Bill shifting a tiny bit closer and saying, in a husky voice that Tom hadn't ever heard before, "I'll do anything you want. Anything at all."

Tom had vivid visions of exactly what he wanted Bill to do, or how he wanted to do Bill... but that was wrong. Bill was so noble and innocent, and his generous words were turning Tom on like the lecherous pervert that he was.

"Ack!" he squawked. Bill looked at him curiously and Tom blushed. "Eh, you don't have to do anything," he said, before adding, "You silly thing!" in a false cheerful voice to cover up his earlier exclamation. He tried to move past Bill and dislodge him, but Bill was making it difficult to do so casually, without actually pushing Bill aside.

"But I want to," Bill insisted. He stepped closer, crowding Tom's personal space, and he smelled absolutely amazing and Tom thought he might cry. "Isn't there anything you have in mind?"

Tom couldn't possibly tell Bill that he wanted to fuck him. He pressed his lips together and shook his head emphatically. When his brain felt like some sense had poured into it again, he said, "Nope, nothing."

Bill looked at him expectantly, but when Tom didn't say anything else, he seemed to finally believe that Tom meant it. He drew back a little, giving Tom more breathing room, for which Tom was grateful. He was also confused. Bill looked displeased, almost like he was pouting, and that was crazy. In what kind of a world did Bill pout when he was denied doing a favour for someone _else_?

"Are you okay?" Tom asked. He was actually kind of worried.

Bill shrugged. "Sure," he said. He looked away, and Tom could tell that he was thinking about something else.

Tom felt like a weight had been lifted when Bill's focus wasn't on him anymore. Tom didn't even feel as desperately aroused anymore, although he was watching Bill bite his lip. It was more like a fascination over what Bill's abused lip looked like than imagining, for example, how it would feel hot and spit-slick between Tom's teeth. Fine, so he was imagining that, but anyway the desperation had faded and he didn't feel like he'd die from the sheer wrongness of an insistent incest-related erection anymore.

"Uh, so," Tom said. "Do you want to stay? Watch some TV maybe?"

Bill lifted his head. There was a determined look in his eyes that Tom had grown to fear. "No, actually I hoped we could do it again."

Tom's heart grew cold with dread. It wasn't a pleasant sensation. "Do what?" he asked, hoping that if he sounded innocent enough, the world would pity him and stop being so cruel.

Bill looked at him under his lashes. "Do that thing where you make me feel relaxed," he said. "I hope you don't mind?"

It was like a nightmare. Every which way Tom turned, there were his bad past decisions, mocking him. "Uh, actually," he said.

"Please? It would just be something to help me sleep," Bill said.

Tom shook his head, but Bill pressed on. "You didn't seem to mind before," he said sweetly. "If I can ask you this one more favour..."

Tom was breathing so erratically, he was afraid that he was hyperventilating. And then he was panicking and breaking. Before he knew it the words he'd sworn he wouldn't say were spilling out.

"I'm sorry!" he babbled. "I'm so sorry, but it's gay! It's sex, Bill – it's gay sex!" He squeezed Bill's shoulders, almost shaking him. "I didn't know, I swear I didn't!"

Bill looked surprised. He was probably in shock and couldn't absorb it at once. "Tom," he said slowly.

"Yes, I mean, the second time I did know, but I just couldn't tell you," Tom said. He felt miserable. Bill was going to hate him, or something worse. It was awful. "It was sex, and I know you don't get it and it's my fault."

Bill was obviously still clueless. He looked at Tom calmly. "The only thing I don't get is how _you_ thought it _wasn't_ ," he said.

Tom stared at him. "Huh?" he said.

"It was kind of hard to miss," Bill said with a patient air.

"Wait," Tom said. "You-" Had Bill known all along? Tom felt suddenly very stupid. "But the website said-"

"I know," Bill said gently, with an understanding look on his face. He cradled Tom's cheek like he was comforting him. "And it worked, right? You said it would make me relaxed. And it made me very relaxed." His expression changed into pure heavy-lidded, smoky seduction and he whispered, "But now it seems like you could use some tension release."

Tom could feel his eyes widening wildly. If he wasn't careful, they'd pop right out of his head. "Wait," he said. "Do you mean-"

"I think we should fuck," Bill said. He said it with a normal voice, like he was talking about a new hobby and he looked determined, like he was actually going to do it. Like he'd planned it.

That was when Tom realised that being a lecherous pervert wasn't enough; he'd turned his little brother into one, too.

Bill moved frighteningly quickly, but Tom was quick, too, and he pulled his head back, evading Bill's advance. "Stop! It's wrong!" he said. He wanted to say it was his fault and that he'd done something to corrupt Bill, but he wasn't sure he could express it diplomatically enough. Telling Bill _You're not right in the head_ didn't seem like a good idea.

Bill just took hold of his chin and turned Tom back towards him. Tom's lips tingled, Bill was so close. "Something that makes me feel that good _can't_ be wrong," Bill said, sounding certain, and Tom yelped.

"What? Bill!" he whined. "It's not healthy! We just can't do it. Don't you see?" Tom was getting desperate. "We shouldn't, and we can't, and I won't."

He was especially sure about the last part, but that was before Bill's voice became low and smug and sweet like honey, and he said, "But you want to," and snaked his hand between Tom's legs and cupped him. There might have been a chance of not being very affected by it, but Tom was hard and the feel of Bill's long fingers against him wasn't exactly what anyone would describe as "unwanted."

Tom closed his eyes and made a strangled "Ah!" sound. He wasn't proud of himself.

"You like it," Bill said breathlessly. "You like it when I spread my legs for you."

"No!" Tom wrenched himself free, not needing to be polite about it anymore. He was painfully aware that his face was burning; he was blushing like mad, because, of course, Bill was right. "No," he said nonetheless, "sorry, but, no."

Bill opened his mouth to say something, probably argue, but then he paused and narrowed his eyes at Tom. Tom had a strong sense of foreboding. He backed away a couple more steps, keeping Bill in his field of vision. One could never be too careful when dealing with him, but surely it was possible to get out of this mess with their morals intact?

"When I said you make me feel good, I meant it," Bill said. Tom tried to say something, because that was not the way he wanted this conversation to go, but Bill intercepted him smoothly. "Tom, you make me come," he said.

Tom had to breathe in and look somewhere else for a moment. It was a fact, he thought. He knew this already. But hearing Bill say it like that made it more _personal_ , somehow. Like it wasn't just the physical sensation that made Bill come, but _Tom_. And it made Tom wonder if Bill had come because of Tom – thinking about Tom – at some other point, too, when Tom hadn't been there to witness it.

"It's not like that," Tom said. "It could have been anyone who made you..." his bravery ran out; he couldn't say it.

Bill shook his head. "No," he said, and Tom wished desperately that he had a less stubborn twin. "It's you. Your hands on me turn me on like you wouldn't believe."

Tom closed his eyes. "No," he said. It seemed like a good word in general. This situation needed a whole lot of _no_. He opened his eyes again. "And I never had my hands on you, precisely."

Bill was still looking at him. "I wish you had," he said, and then he lifted his shirt and put his hand on the bare skin of his stomach. Tom's eyes were suddenly glued to it.

"I wish you'd touch me here," Bill said. Two of his fingers were under the waistband of his trousers and it was so forbidden. Tom swallowed. He could almost feel the warmth against his fingertips.

"No," Tom whispered.

Bill lifted an eyebrow. "No?" he echoed. "You don't want to touch me like this?"

Tom shook his head. He felt the sincerity of his claim was ruined by the way he couldn't look away from Bill's hand, though.

"What about... here?" Bill said, sliding his hand further up and touching his side. "I want to feel you here," he said in a low voice, not giving Tom a chance to say anything. "I want to feel you inside me."

"Bill!" Tom burst out, scandalised. Now he could tear his eyes away from the tantalising skin of Bill's stomach and look him in the eye. Bill was looking right back, completely unfazed by his shocking declaration, and Tom found that he couldn't hold Bill's gaze. "That's incest," Tom said. He had a sinking feeling that Bill knew, though, and didn't care.

True enough, Bill said, "Yeah," and continued, "but do you want it?"

Tom didn't know where to look. He did, he wanted it so much. His response to Bill's words had been shock, true, but that was secondary – his most immediate reaction had been something far more carnal. "Of course not," he said weakly.

"Are you sure?" Bill asked. "So you don't want to touch me... here?" His hand moved further up and Tom's eyes followed, enchanted. Bill moaned, closing his eyes, and Tom guessed he was touching his nipple, invisible under the shirt.

Tom whimpered. He knew Bill was an exhibitionist and the idea that Bill was getting off on him watching was blowing his mind. Bill looked so turned on – flushed and dewy, breathing heavily. Tom had never thought of Bill in a sexual sense but now he couldn't stop seeing him like that, and it had a devastating effect on him. He could feel his defences crumbling.

"All right, yes," he said, and Bill's eyes flew open. "I want to, but I won't because it's wrong," Tom hastened to say. The way Bill's whole face was glowing with pleased surprise was not a good sign.

"Let's do it," Bill all but purred, hurrying closer.

"Absolutely not," Tom said and lifted his hands to keep Bill at bay. Bill slipped his hand out of his shirt and put it on Tom's arm, his fingers still warm from fondling his nipple. Tom gasped involuntarily.

"Let's just do it once," Bill suggested. He crowded closer. Tom tried to remove his hands so he wouldn't touch Bill but they were trapped between their bodies. Tom could feel Bill's body heat through the old shirt. He thought he might never be able to breathe normally again.

"That doesn't even make sense," he wheezed.

"Just this once. It won't be so bad," Bill murmured. He slipped his hands around Tom, resting his palms on Tom's waist. Tom's mind was suddenly filled with new images – not just him touching Bill, but Bill stroking him. While they were naked. His body ached for it. He could feel his brain shutting down important thinking centres like moral-based decision making.

"It's not logical," Tom tried to point out. "Why would once be okay if..."

His voice faded. Bill was rubbing against him. His hot body was trying to press against Tom's and he'd said he wanted Tom _inside_ him. Tom's cock had high hopes about that phrase.

Was incest so bad if you did it just this once?

"Fine," Tom said.

Bill gasped, his face lit with wonder. "Really?"

Tom felt dazed. "Yeah, sure," he said. He didn't even really know what he was saying anymore. All he could think of was touching Bill's ass and that this time, he would get in on the fun.

Bill let out a squeal and squeezed Tom's sides. Tom was pretty sure he would have clapped his hands if Tom hadn't been between them. And then he showed Tom that after all that, the conversation, the inappropriate touching, he could _still_ shock Tom – by surging forward and kissing him.

Tom had never expected Bill to kiss him, to feel Bill's soft lips against his, not even now. It was absolutely sinful and his body reacted to it immediately, with startling heat and blood roaring in his ears like he was going to pass out. At the same time, it made his whole body cringe with the knowledge that it wasn't, couldn't be, right. He pulled back.

"No!" he said, for what it felt like the millionth time that night, turning his head away. "It's wrong."

He batted at Bill's shoulder in a vain attempt to shoo him away. Of course, Bill didn't even budge.

"It's not wrong, it's just a kiss," Bill murmured. His logic was laughably unsound, and Tom would have pointed that out, but Bill kissed him again. Tom moaned helplessly into his mouth. It was so forbidden, and yet so sweetly addictive. And it wasn't just a kiss – if there is such a thing as "just a kiss" between brothers – but when Bill's soft tongue licked its way into his mouth, the whole thing was something more intimate and personal and more _incestuous_ than Tom had even imagined.

Bill felt amazing in his arms, lithe and hot. He slid a hand to the back of Tom's neck and it felt like the hairs everywhere on Tom's body raised. Bill cradled the back of his neck, making the skin there unnaturally sensitive and sending shivers down his spine. He was so hard, he was getting desperate. He was so ready and hungry for it. It was as if his body had been born and raised only for the purpose of having sex with Bill.

"Oh god," Tom said, when they stopped to pant and stare at each other. "This is so wrong."

"Yes, you said that," Bill said. "Come on-"

Bill moved to make his way to the bed, but Tom's arms, entirely without asking him, brought him up short and tugged him close again. Bill let out a quiet "Oh" that was barely more than a breath, and then Tom kissed him. Tom, not Bill, even though Tom should have known it wasn't right. He was licking and sucking Bill's mouth so urgently, he thought Bill would come to his senses any minute and shove him away. He could see in his mind's eye how Bill would look at him, indignant and disapproving, and straighten his clothes before stalking off. But Bill didn't shove him away.

They reached the bed by shuffling slowly towards it, and didn't stop kissing even for a moment. Tom's whole body was on fire. He slipped a hand under Bill's shirt, stroking hot, bare skin, and Bill made a choked sound against his mouth. He shouldn't have been touching his brother like this, and knowing it sent little electric shocks to Tom's system as if in punishment, but the twinges of guilt weren't enough to make him stop. He fell on the bed haphazardly, not even looking where he was going, and pulled Bill down with him.

Tom was increasingly worried, no, _horrified_ by his reactions. He shouldn't have felt intense pleasure when he felt the length of Bill's body against his, or clutched Bill greedily to press him even closer, or – especially – humped Bill's leg the best he could while lying on his back. But he did. Bill's body felt absolutely tantalising under Tom's hands.

"Oh, ah," Tom said, unable to stop the incoherent sounds from tumbling from his lips, and then he clasped Bill's sides, gripping like a vice, and _threw_ him on his back on the bed, so that he could crawl over Bill. It was an unspeakable, disrespectful thing to do, and Tom fully expected Bill to smack him and, again, glare and leave.

What Bill did was moan and yank Tom closer to kiss him, arching against Tom, rubbing their hips together. Tom would have been surprised, but frankly, he was too busy losing himself in the delicious pressure against his cock.

"Let's lose some clothes," Bill suggested against his mouth.

"Yeah," Tom managed, panting.

"Yeah?" Bill repeated, brightening and looking pleased. "About time you cheer up about this," he said.

Tom groaned. "Don't talk about it like that," he said.

Bill pushed him away and started to wriggle his way out of his t-shirt.

"How can you be so upbeat, anyway?" Tom questioned. He wasn't about to stop, though, and he stripped off his outer shirt to make it clear.

"About what?" Bill said. "It's not like this is going to harm anyone."

He popped open the button of his jeans and shimmied out of them. Tom couldn't look away from his crotch. He couldn't believe he'd get to touch Bill there and not have to pretend that it didn't turn him on. He squeezed his cock through his pants.

"It's still wrong," he said. His voice sounded flat. He didn't know who he was talking to, anyway – to Bill or to himself.

"Do you have to keep saying that?" Bill said. "And take your clothes off."

Bill got rid of his own black briefs, dragging them down in a smooth move and kicking them on the floor. He sighed, apparently content to be completely naked, and cradled his cock, pulling the foreskin back with his thumb. The tip was glistening.

"Maybe I should keep my shirt on," Tom said, dubious when facing all that bare skin. He was torn between maintaining some semblance of propriety and just shucking his pants and doing it... whatever 'it' was.

"What?" Bill shot him an exasperated look. "Get those off and get on me," he commanded. "Now."

Tom swallowed. His fingers were already struggling to get his belt buckle open; they seemed to have more sense than him. "I'm just saying," he said feebly, but stopped when Bill's eyes glinted in warning.

Tom pushed his pants down. Bill sat up and came to hover over him. "You shouldn't keep your shirt on," Bill informed him, and grasped the hem of Tom's shirt as if to underline his statement. His fingers tickled and Tom gasped. "Because I don't want you to," Bill continued. He tugged at Tom's shirt, and Tom scrambled up, fearing that Bill would rip it.

Bill hauled the shirt over Tom's head so eagerly that Tom couldn't keep up with him, and hummed happily, sliding his palms up and down Tom's sides when Tom sorted his arms out of the sleeves.

"Do you have hand lotion or something?" Bill asked, voice husky. He looked amazing, his eyes dark and his whole face lit up with anticipation.

"Do you really want to..." Tom gulped. He couldn't say it.

"I want to," Bill said. "I want to know what it feels like."

He put his hand on Tom's cock, the sudden touch making Tom jump, and fisted it loosely, as if to assess how it felt.

"Ahhh," Tom moaned. He was embarrassingly loud. He could feel his face going crimson. Bill squeezed his cock and pulled at it a couple of times, looking at him the whole time. Bill was so pretty with make up, Tom thought deliriously.

"Don't," Tom rasped. "I'm gonna come if you keep doing that."

"All right," Bill said, and stopped. He took his hand away and Tom's hips shifted, as if trying to futilely follow. "So where's that lotion?"

"I'll get it," Tom said weakly. He pushed off the bed and went for his bag, holding his cock in consolation. He found the tube quickly, thankfully, and after a moment of hesitation, he took a condom out of a side pocket.

When he turned back, Bill was on all fours on the bed. Tom stared at him, his long pale back and his spread buttocks, and for a while he felt so light-headed he was afraid he'd fall.

"Is this okay?" Bill asked, looking at him over his shoulder.

"Y-yeah," Tom said, almost running as he hurried to the bed. He was breathing harshly. Bill's legs were splayed and _Tom would get to do it_. He pushed his cock against Bill's buttock, his supple flesh, and moaned. He was so embarrassing; so pathetic. "I've wanted to do this since the first time," he blurted, cringing as soon as the words were out. So pathetic.

His cock felt like it had wanted to do this for years.

Bill made a breathy, throaty sound, Tom didn't know if it was a moan or a laugh, and said, "So do it."

Tom tried to get himself under control. He opened the condom wrapper to focus on something else.

"What are you doing?" Bill said, trying to peer at him.

"It just, it feels more sanitary," Tom explained. He rolled the condom on himself.

Bill blew hair out of his eye and hesitated. "Look, don't just stick it in," he started.

"Yeah, I know," Tom said. He squirted some lotion on his fingers and warmed it, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips. Bill was right in front of him, on display for him. He sat down on his heels for a better angle and put his middle finger right against Bill's hole.

Tom realised he wanted to do it right away, just stick it in, like Bill had said. He bit his lip and rubbed his cock lightly. It was going to take a while, and there was nothing to it.

"How does it feel?" he asked to distract himself. Besides, it was important that Bill felt good. It was what was most important. "Is it cold?"

"Not too bad," Bill said.

"Good," Tom said, trying to not sound too wistful. He stroked Bill's skin, making circles around his opening. Every time his finger slid over it and dipped slightly in the middle, his cock throbbed painfully. If only there was a way to do this more quickly, Tom thought. He licked his lips.

"You can put it in now," Bill said. "Not your dick," he warned.

Tom laughed, but the sound was short and choked. He stroked a few more times, insistent, and then he pushed his finger inside.

"Ohh," Bill moaned. "How are you so good at this? Did you practice?"

"I've practiced with you," Tom muttered. It sounded so wrong to say that out loud.

"Yes, but before that," Bill said. Tom slid his finger in and then pulled it almost all the way out. Bill felt looser, this time, probably because Tom had already done it that day.

"Of course not," Tom said.

"No? I'm your first?" Bill said. Tom cursed and he laughed, breathlessly. "You were so careful during the first time, really skilful," Bill said, and then he laughed again.

"Fuck you," Tom said. He wasn't entirely serious; he knew that Bill was trying to annoy him deliberately, and that always annoyed him, but when Bill was in a good mood, he loosened up quicker, too. Tom moved his finger steadily, gently, stroking Bill.

Bill hummed. "That's the idea," he said.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. He wondered if he could ever say that to Bill without thinking about _this_ again. "Stop it," he pleaded. "You're so mean, I don't know why I'm doing this for you."

Bill laughed again. "Because you're so nice," he said. "You're so nice that you'll put your dick in me out of the goodness of your heart."

Tom moaned. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm a good guy." He put his forehead on the top of Bill's buttock, because that was the closest thing to slamming his head on something hard that he could do. And his head would have deserved that – he wasn't a good guy, not at all, not when he was doing this with his twin, whom he'd shared a womb with. He also realised that Bill, on the other hand, was being really, really nice to him, and he petted Bill's thigh.

"Can you take another one?" he asked. Bill's thigh tensed under his hand.

"Yeah." Bill's voice was breathless. "Oh, that's good," he said even before Tom had had time to do anything. "Keep doing that."

"Keep doing what?" Tom turned his head to see what he was doing and slipped another finger in. It stretched Bill a little but apparently Bill liked it; he moaned and pushed against Tom.

"Everything," Bill said. "Ah, kiss me!"

Tom drew back a little, giving Bill a disbelieving look he couldn't see. "Where?" he said incredulously. "Kiss your ass, you mean?" He thrust his fingers in more forcefully, as if unconsciously punishing Bill.

"Yes," Bill moaned. "Or bite it, whatever. That's so good!"

"You are such a perv," Tom muttered. No way was he going to do that. He slid his hand up Bill's thigh, though, in case Bill liked it, in addition to stroking his fingers in and out of Bill. He wanted Bill to feel good, but he had his limits.

Even if Bill's buttock did look kind of... biteable.

"Come on," Bill said, panting. "Where's the harm? You've got your fingers up my ass already."

"Fuck-" Tom started, then bit it back. "Whatever," he said. He searched for Bill's prostate in retaliation. Bill had better watch his mouth; Tom had considerable power over him.

"You're the weirdo here," Bill taunted, but then Tom found his spot and he keened, lurching forward as his arms gave out. Tom smirked.

"Be nice; you're at my mercy," he said. He wasn't sure if Bill heard him, though. Tom hadn't stopped teasing his prostate and Bill was writhing and making incoherent noises.

Tom glanced at his cock for measure and added a third finger. Bill made an interesting squealing sound, spreading his legs and pushing back against Tom's fingers. The third one didn't go very far inside at first, but Tom slid his fingers in and out, patiently, pushing a little further each time. Bill gasped and made nonsensical noises.

"Ah! Ah!" Bill said. Then he squirmed powerfully, almost dislodging Tom's hand.

"Hey," Tom said and steadied him. "What are you doing?"

"I want you inside me," Bill said. "Please, just..."

Tom sucked in a breath. He'd almost forgotten that he was allowed to do that, now, having concentrated on feeding Bill his fingers. "You want it? Now? Are you sure?"

"Nggh, yes," Bill said. He squirmed again and squeezed around Tom's fingers, and Tom got up on his knees so fast he almost fell right down on the mattress. He was grateful Bill couldn't see his flailing.

"Okay," he said, nervous now that it was time. He knew what to do, technically, but suddenly he felt unsure. Fingers, he knew, but this was different. "Can I just-"

"Yeah, be quick," Bill said, not even letting him finish.

Be quick, that was good, solid advice, Tom thought. He touched his neglected cock while his fingers were in Bill's tight heat and his hips bucked forward. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't wait for it. He almost climbed on top of Bill and pushed in right away, but then he remembered his lotion.

"Wait," he said, took the tube one-handed and squirted lotion all over the bedding. He couldn't bring himself to mind, though, he just got some on his fingers and slicked up his cock.

He pushed his fingers in and out of Bill a couple of times more, then he pulled them completely out. Bill's hole stayed open for him and he almost bit his tongue. Or maybe he did, he couldn't tell. He shuffled forward on his knees and guided the tip of his cock against Bill's entrance, and pushed it in.

For a moment, the world shrank into nothing but sweet pressure around his cock. Tom whimpered.

"Oh, fuck, that's good," he said, breathing ragged. Then he realised that Bill was very still.

"Stop for a second, okay?" Bill said, even though Tom wasn't moving.

Tom put his hand on Bill's lower back and petted him. "Are you all right?"

Bill breathed. "You're bigger than I thought."

"Thanks," Tom said, dry.

"How does it feel?" Bill asked. There was lingering tension in his voice. Tom wished with his whole being that it would feel as good for Bill as it did for him; he was in heaven.

"Unbelievable," he said, "so amazing." He clutched Bill's hip, panting.

"Yeah?" Bill sounded curious, maybe a little pleased.

"Yeah, it's so fucking good," Tom said. He couldn't say anything but the truth. He didn't have enough brains left to think about what was coming out of his mouth.

He looked down at Bill's lean back, the back of his neck, and suddenly he wanted to kiss it. He thought about how warm and soft and untouched Bill's skin was there.

"I'll kiss it," he promised out loud. He realised now how Bill had felt when he'd talked about Tom kissing his butt. "I'll kiss whatever you want," Tom said.

"That good?" Bill said. He laughed a little, and Tom's cock slipped further inside. He breathed in, sharply, and closed his eyes.

"Whatever you want," he repeated, sincere. He petted Bill's hip, his buttock. "What do you want?"

"Maybe... touch my dick?"

It was clearly a question, like Bill didn't think he'd do it. It did gave Tom a pause, but he'd promised _anything_ , and it couldn't be that bad. Tom leaned forward, supported himself with one hand against the mattress and reached down and under Bill.

His knuckles brushed Bill's hardness and Bill cried out, his hips jumping. They were twins, it was almost like touching his own, Tom comforted himself and wrapped his fingers around Bill's cock. It was hot and the feel was surprisingly natural against his palm.

Touching Bill actually distracted Tom from how he was buried inside Bill, which was good, because he wanted to last a little longer than a minute. Tom jacked Bill's cock gently and Bill sighed and spread his legs a little.

Tom could tell Bill wasn't clamping around him anymore, just tight in a good way. So good. Tom started to move his hips a bit, almost without meaning to, and Bill swayed with him.

"Okay, get up, I want more," Bill said, breathless. Tom straightened his back, supporting himself on Bill's hips, and Bill pushed himself up on his hands again. Tom held on to Bill's hips and pushed inside him, watching it this time. His cock went inside, disappearing in Bill, and seeing it in addition to feeling the slick tightness blew Tom's mind.

Bill was clearly getting into it, too. His appreciative noises were louder, and he thrust back against Tom harder than Tom himself was moving. He moved his back, bending it low and then arching up like a cat, and then he yodelled like a cat, too. Tom guessed it was the angle to hit Bill's prostate and he shoved forward, trying enthusiastically to meet Bill's need.

"Mmm," Bill said, "ah! Do you like it?"

It took Tom a moment to find his tongue and remember how to use it. "I love it," he said, dazed. He tensed against the barbed tangle of guilt and wrongness that had prickled him all evening, but this time, it didn't. Maybe it had melted away when he felt Bill against his cock. Bill was certainly hot enough to melt things.

His cock slid so easily into Bill, now, it was so slippery and tight, and staring at it, Tom realised he was going to come soon. His toes curled. "I'm gonna come," he warned Bill, and Bill's head jerked up.

"No! Not yet," Bill said, fumbling back with his hand and slapping Tom on the arm.

"Hey," Tom said, surprised. Bill reached up with his hand, awkwardly since he couldn't see and the angle was bad, and slapped him again, trying to hit his shoulder. It was so absurd that Tom laughed. But he didn't stop pushing into Bill; he didn't think there was anything that could have stopped him doing that, right now. "I'm not into that, you know," he said. "And you can stop, I'm not on the edge anymore."

Then he glanced down and the edge was right there, again. He moaned.

"I can't look at you," he said, "I'm gonna come."

"Don't come!"

"Oh," Tom moaned and closed his eyes. He tried to think about something else, but the image of his cock sliding in and disappearing between Bill's pale ass cheeks was impossible to forget. He slid his hands down, grabbing Bill's buttocks and squeezing them. Bill rocked against him. "You look so hot," he said.

Bill made a choked sound. "You're watching me?"

"It's the hottest," Tom said, pausing for breath, "you're the hottest thing I've ever seen." It was like a confession, the way the words left his tongue. Bill's hips made a series of movements so quick Tom didn't know if he was shuddering or doing it himself, and then Bill _yelled_ and crashed down, and Tom realised he'd come just as the rhythmical squeezing he recognised started around his cock.

It was too much – Tom couldn't handle even the pulsing sensations of Bill's ass, and for some reason thinking that he'd made Bill come, again, and this time with his cock, was unbearably hot too. And so he came, shooting his jizz in deep, satisfying waves, clutching Bill's hips and making an embarrassing squawking noise that he hoped Bill didn't hear through his afterglow.

"Ngh," Tom said when he was done, so thoroughly spent that anything besides breathing was too much of an effort. He tugged his cock out of Bill and flopped down beside him.

Bill grinned down at him. He practically sparkled.

"Well? Wasn't it amazing?"

Tom was feeling feeble like a kitten, but he was never too weak to answer back to Bill.

"I never thought it wouldn't be amazing."

"We must do it again," Bill said, decisively.

Tom groaned and covered his face with his arm. It seemed like he'd have to admit defeat, but he was going to be nothing but reluctant. It was the principle of the thing.

"What? Seriously, lighten up!" Bill said.

There was rustling, and then an appalled cry. "This bed is a mess!"

Tom realised that Bill had probably rolled over the lotion. He grinned.


End file.
